HANNERCLONE: Seven yaks, rigged with ten kilos of C4 each and remote detonators. Pretty obvious, really, once I'd experienced yak flatulence first hand. The militants just herded them right into the middle of their camp. Yeah, it was messy, but nobody can trace it back to you. In fact the locals are so happy to have them gone, apparently I own the rest of their yaks now. Or maybe they're just afraid these will explode too. It's hard to tell, Tibetan's not my best dialect.
HANNERCLONE: She did what?! Is it time for, uh.... Proud of her, huh? Well, good. I'm here if you ever need me, Ms E-C, but I'm just as glad to keep putting that particular mission off....